“You seem to be up on the value of these goodies, Japur. What do you guess the value of this little jar at?”

“It’s the business of a healer to know the cost of his tools and related materials,” she said. She was intent on the interior of a half-filled beaker. “An aelo-vyacine combination, for example, can slow a thranx heartbeat to near nothing without ill effects, and without the use of a Dancer, or any other drugs. It makes open surgery practical to us, with our open circulatory systems. Otherwise many would bleed to death rapidly. I mention this by way of indicating relativity.”

She looked back at him. “To me, that vial is worth nothing. To you, nothing. To an addict—anything short of his life. Any sentient in the galaxy ‘took’ on bloodhype would gladly trade you all his worldly possessions, his offspring, his mate, parents, and all his limbs save the minimum needed to inject the drug, in return for the hollow splinter of glass you hold in your hand. ‘Ex pui restact al phempt,’ ” she added in pure High thranx.

“Pardon?” Hammurabi asked. His schooling had neglected the formal dialects in favor of practical semantics.

“I couldst in my shell-of-shells vomit,” the dainty healer replied. She turned back to her examination of the beaker, added something from another.

The ship-master considered the vial a moment longer, then laid it gently on the workbench. “I think maybe you ought to take charge of this, Japur. Myself, I’m going to try and arrange a chat with a certain old man.”

The AAnn soldier approached the small group. It sheathed its claws and bowed slightly in salute, turning slightly to expose the jugular as a sign of respect.

“Most Exalted Commander, the place for the monster is completed.”

“Thank you, Engineer,” the tallest of the three intoned.

Parquit RAM, Supreme Commander of His Imperial Majesty’s Grand Territory and Colony Station on Repler, turned from his two companions and made a gesture of politeness in the direction the engineer had come from.

“My compliments, Engineer Sixth . . . Waya SCXNMSS, I believe . . .”

“My ancestors are honored at your remembrance, Excellency!”

“Convey to Engineer First Vynaar my personal congratulations on a complex task efficiently done. The same to your associates. Even though,” the Commander spared a glance for his thumb chronometer, “they pared things very close to our deadlines. Your speed will be mentioned in my official log of this project. I should hope to obtain more suitable compensation for the entire engineering staff from Imperial Sector Headquarters.”

“A thousand thousand days of sun on all your progeny, Excellence!” said the engineer, bowing and turning every few steps.

Parquit gestured irritably at the younger nye. “And stop bowing so much! You’ll acquire a crick in your neck.”

The junior engineer turned hurriedly and scooted out of sight.

“Now then, gentlemen, my apologies for the interruption. Carmot MMYM, be known to Arris CDC, senior Xenobiologist First. Arris has been elevated to the position of nominal head of our scientific station here, for the duration of the project. We didn’t bother with such plebeian formalities before—on a world like this, the nye will barely tolerate normal routine—but ever since Sectorcav have gotten their official tails in a frenzy on this thing . . .”